


Nourishment

by rufeepeach



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Honeymoon, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 01:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5186549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rufeepeach/pseuds/rufeepeach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Rumpelstiltskin have both suffered, both struggled, and are both in need of a little tender loving care. With french toast and bacon. Set at the start of 4A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nourishment

“Belle?” Belle slipped into consciousness and wrinkled her nose, as Rumpelstiltskin awoke her in the way only he ever did: he tapped her face gently with his forefinger, and stroked her hair with his other palm. She was smiling as she awoke – that was, she presumed, why he was so fond of the sweet little tradition – and that smile only grew to a beam when she remembered what she was seeing.

It had been five days since Rumple’s return, three since their wedding, and they had been inseparable in all that time. It was still an endless wonder to see Rumple standing tall, upright and walking, smiling and talking like his old self. To see him stood before her now, still wrapped in his natty old robe with his pyjamas and socks beneath, holding a massive, groaning tray of breakfast foods, was as heavenly a sight as Belle had ever witnessed. She would never stop being thankful for that smile of his, she vowed, not ever. Especially not having had to live for over a year without it, knowing he was suffering and unable to help.

But all of that was behind them, now. Zelena was gone, his dagger was safe, and he had, apparently, made her breakfast.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he told her, softly so as not to force her awake too fast, and she grinned and slid up slowly in the silk sheets, making her self comfortable against the headboard.

“I am,” she told him, and noticed how his face lit up at that.

He knew how hard she found it to eat while anxious or unhappy, and she had been both the entire time he had been gone. She’d gotten by, eaten as much as she needed to function and remain healthy, but she’d lost weight, and she knew he’d noticed. Just as she’d noticed the same change in him: whatever Zelena had been giving him to eat in that horrid, sickening cage, it hadn’t been nourishing, or nearly plentiful enough.

Food was an unspoken issue between them, a legacy from a dark time neither wished to openly discuss. But Belle knew from the thankful smile on his face that he’d worried she’d decline her meal, and the thought that he worried without needing to be told of the problem made her love him just a little bit more, if that were possible. 

“Good,” he said, placing the breakfast tray over her open lap and then coming around to settle beside her, his side pressed warmly against hers in the bed, “Because I might have gone a little overboard.”

“You’re not kidding,” she said, with some astonishment, as she took in the reality of the spread before her. Pancakes, waffles, stacks of French toast, what looked like a full English breakfast, five rashers of bacon, a jar of syrup, regular toast, a full pot of tea and cups from a heartbreakingly familiar tea set, and two heaping bowls of fruit all laid out before her, and she knew if she ate all day she’d never finish it all. “Magic makes a good breakfast,” she noted, and glanced at him only to see him frowning.

“Magic kept it warm,” Rumple corrected her, and Belle’s eyes widened as she realised what he meant. 

“You… you made all of this yourself?” she gasped, and for some reason there were tears standing in her eyes, “You must have got up at the crack of dawn!” 

“Actually,” he said, with a grin, “It’s eleven am; I’ve only been up since nine, never you worry. I just… I felt you needed a good breakfast. I know left to your own devices it’s a small bowl of cereal before work, and Granny’s waffles are store-bought, you know.”

She snickered at his little dig and swallowed, nodding, not correcting him as to her normal breakfast habits of late. She hadn’t been eating the meal at all, to tell the truth: she’d been lying to Granny and Ruby to keep them from worrying, but Belle’s appetite had always been a temperamental thing, and her stomach was prone to such difficulties. The last months had been hard, Belle had to admit, however well she felt she’d handled it: a bowl of ceral before work, too tired and distracted to think, and a small dinner at Granny’s, where people were around to see her and distract her from her worries. The rest of the time she’d all but gone without; the few times she’d tried to snack or attempted lunch, it hadn’t stayed down. 

He didn’t need to know that. It would only consume him with needless concern and guilt, and she was fine: she’d survived, as he had, and now they could recover together. It wasn’t as if her troubles were anything close to what he’d suffered, after all.

“Thank you,” she replied. “This is… it’s wonderful, Rumple. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, mystified when she dragged him in for a slow, gentle kiss. “Now, dig in: the magic won’t keep it good forever.”

Belle grinned, and clapped her hands, trying to work out what to go for first. The French toast looked delicious, golden and fluffy and covered in icing sugar, and she drizzled a little syrup on it, and accompanied her first bite with a strawberry. It tasted even better than it looked – how had she forgotten how phenomenal Rumple was in the kitchen? – and she eagerly reached for another piece, scoffing it down in similar fashion. It was only after the third piece that she glanced at him.

“Are you not eating with me?” she asked, trying to match her concern with something resembling flirtation, but his easy grin reassured her somewhat.

“Oh, I am,” he replied, “I just want to make sure I don’t take anything you want. If you’re happy to share, however,” he reached forward and took the last piece of French toast, with a wicked smile, “I’ll be having this.”

He took a huge bite of it, and Belle gasped in false horror, “You thief! I wanted that!”

“Come and get it then,” he invited, raising the piece to his lips again, and she swept in to take it from him with her teeth, only for his hand to grasp the back of her head, and redirect her to his mouth instead. His passionate kiss tasted like icing sugar and syrup, and Belle moaned in surprise and happiness as he deepened it, kissing her like she was all the nourishment he’d need.

She took advantage of his distraction, taking the toast from his unresisting fingers as she kissed him, and when she pulled back, she pecked the tip of his nose and waited for his eyes to open before impishly shoving half of the remaining toast into her own mouth and making a small noise of delight.

“Mmmm,” she moaned around a mouth full of toast, “delicious!”

“You’re a vixen,” he growled, “taking advantage of my distraction like that.” 

“You took my toast,” she shrugged, trying not to smile and failing miserably, “I did what I had to do. A hero always fights for what she wants.”

“And a villain,” he purred, leaning close and reaching around her, crowding her with his body and sudden smirk, her breath catching in her throat as her gaze was locked on his deep, dark, melting eyes. “Always cheats.”

He snatched the last of the toast back and whipped a raspberry out of the bowl on his way, cramming both in his mouth and grinning as he chewed. “Mmm,” he groaned, “sweet victory.”

She tried to glare but it turned into a giggle far too quickly, and settled for smacking his arm lightly. “Are we going to eat?” she asked, primly, “Or battle for every bite?”

“You should eat,” he said, decisively, and picked up a bacon rasher, presenting it to her with a flourish and a raised eyebrow, “If you’ll have it?”

Belle snickered, and her heart filled with more warmth and love than she could hope to contain. She pressed a hand to her heart and smiled as if it were the most beautiful red rose, taking the rasher from his hand and inclining her head as he made as close to a bow as he could while tucked up in bed.

“Why thank you,” she said, and crunched the bacon between her teeth as he watched with a smile that was as purely happy as she’d ever seen it.

They shared the rest of breakfast that way, a small, welcome amount of magic keeping their food at perfect temperature as they played and flirted their way through almost everything, until they were both completely full, and Rumple set the tray aside on the floor while they sipped their tea. Belle thumbed the chipped ridge on her cup – their cup, the cup that meant so much and she hadn’t seen in too long – thoughtfully.

“Isn’t this too precious to be used?” she asked, softly, and he shook his head.

“Of course not,” he said, “it’s a cup: it’s meant to be used, enjoyed, put to good work. Why?” he frowned, “Would you rather I put it away somewhere?”

“No, no!” Belle cried, clutching the cup close, careful not to spill her earl grey all over her silk negligee, “I just don’t want it to get damaged!”

“Funny,” Rumple grinned, “that attitude would have come in handy thirty years ago,  _before_ you carelessly dropped it.”

Belle just stuck her tongue out at him, and giggled around another sip of tea as he made an exaggerated face back, and did the same. Somehow his arm came around her not long after, and she settled down against his chest, and for the first time in months Belle had nowhere to be, no one to check in with, nothing to worry about. She was warm, and safe, and cared for, cuddled close in her husband’s arms, and she let herself drift into a warm, contented doze without any mind for the late hour.

It was the best morning she’d had in years, and when she told him so Rumple dropped a soft kiss to the top of her head, and agreed.


End file.
